


Tank Top

by Spooky_Ghost



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Din Djarin's Helmet Stays on During Sex, Din's imagination is the filthiest part about this actually, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, hints of an oral fixation ig, it's NOT established relationship but Din calls Luke "his jedi"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:14:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29295732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spooky_Ghost/pseuds/Spooky_Ghost
Summary: In the heat, Luke had stripped off more clothing than usual, leaving him in a thin white undershirt. A tank top. Din doesn't know where to look. He's not even the one exposed, and yet he finds himself flushed at the intimacy.Luke's shoulders aren't exactly broad, but his arms are corded with muscle that move smoothly with his actions. The shirt covers his clavicles but his collarbones make strong lines past his sleeves, and Din wants to suck a mark into his shoulder right where the point meets the curve.(Or, the one where Luke wears a tank top to seduce Din)
Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 11
Kudos: 399





	Tank Top

Look.

Din knows Luke is strong. Even if Din _hadn't_ watched Luke slice through a platoon of Dark Troopers with ease, he knows it in the way the Jedi carries himself. Measured. Graceful. _Powerful._

_He can't help but think about it sometimes, when a spar ends up with him pinned to the wall, Luke's body pressed tightly to his, when the warmth of his saber is close enough to Din's neck that he can imagine it's actually Luke's panting breath, face pressed into his shoulder--_

_Anyway_. Din knows his Jedi has muscles somewhere. But there's no way that knowledge had prepared him for this.

In the heat, Luke had stripped off more clothing than usual, leaving him in a thin white undershirt. A _tank top._ Din doesn't know where to look. He's not even the one exposed, and yet he finds himself flushed at the intimacy.

Luke's shoulders aren't exactly broad, but his arms are corded with muscle that move smoothly with his actions. The shirt covers his clavicles but his collarbones make strong lines past his sleeves, and Din wants to suck a mark into his shoulder right where the point meets the curve.

Still, Luke is a tough fight even at the best of times. Din knows he can't win if he stays on the defensive, and yet. Something about his Jedi is different today. The calm that's typically in place when he fights is slipping and Luke's _grinning_ , something sharp and slightly cocky to his demeanor. Maker help him, it's fucking _attractive_.

He doubles down, _tries not to think about the way the sweat makes Luke's shirt stick to his skin,_ ducks under a strike and twists behind him, _doesn't stare at the way the muscles of his back shift,_ makes a feint to one side, _sees the flash of his hip as Luke's shirt rises on a spin,_ sweeps at his legs, _watches his tongue swipe across his lips,_ and they go down hard.

Luke drops his weapon in the fall, and Din's hands come up to press over Luke's automatically to keep him from reaching for it. They're both panting roughly, and Luke squirms as though testing his hold. Din's eyes are drawn down to his arching chest, and his breath hitches at the way Luke's nipples are pressing through his shirt. He wants to lean down and press his mouth to them, biting and licking in turn, wants to see if Luke will _gasp_ , _will press up into his touch, will plead with him. Wants to map the span of that chest with his lips, drag kisses along his ribs, wants to pull back and see Luke's skin rubbed red and slightly raw under his stubble._

Din drags his eyes back up to Luke's face, locking eyes even through his visor. They're both breathing harshly, and Din bets his face is just as flushed-hot and desparate beneath his helmet. He watches as Luke's tongue dips out of his mouth again, makes his lips shine. Somehow, Din finds the strength to speak.

"I win." His voice is hoarse, though the breathy quality to it is hopefully masked by the modulator.

Luke's fingers lace through Din's. His voice comes out pitched just as low, and his Jedi looks up at him with a coy smile. "And what are you going to do with me now?"

He feels like his brain has short-circuited, surely, when Luke rolls his hips up. Lets out a strangled gasp at the thigh pressing between his own.

Instinct has him pressing back. He drops one hand to ruck up that shirt and finally _finally_ admire the lines of Luke's torso, sweat dipping into the curves of his chest and making his skin shine. He drags his hand upward, wonders if Luke can feel the callouses even against his scars. When he rubs the pad of his thumb against one of Luke's nipples and then rolls it in his fingers, Luke's groan rings out in the training room and his free hand comes up to cling to the back of Din's neck. He keeps playing with Luke's chest, alternating between flicking, rubbing, and pinching, and smoothing his hand down his partner's sides. At some point, Luke hooks his left leg over Din's, trying to pull up closer into him. Din wonders at the strength and flexibility those legs must have to hook over him in this position, at the points between his armor, and he wants desparately to find out. _Wants to spread Luke's legs and set his palms against those thighs, push them toward his chest and see if his Jedi has the strength to hold onto them as Din folds him in half and fucks him, splits him open on his cock-_

_"Diiin,"_ the whine comes from below him instead of his imagination, and he realizes he's doing his darling Jedi an injustice. With a smirk, he pulls his hand away, moves it up instead of down, presses his thumb to Luke's pouting lips. They part under the tiniest pressure, and Luke's tongue is soft and wet under his touch. He swears he _sees_ Luke's pupils dilate as he switches out his thumb for his first two fingers, and Luke closes his mouth around them eagerly. He looks straight at Din as he sucks firmly at his fingers, then parts them with his tongue and runs over them individually. Din groans as Luke swallows around them, as he brings his hand down from Din's neck and guides another one of Din's fingers into his mouth.

Luke's grip loosens and he takes that as the permission it is, pumping his fingers in and out of Luke's mouth. He watches as Luke's eyes roll back, as his throat bobs and his hips twitch, and wonders if his partner would look just as blissful if Din fed him his cock. He enjoys the dazed look that comes with pulling his fingers away, and a laugh rumbles in his chest. Luke lets out a small noise in return, pausing for only a second in front of Din's palm before laving his tongue over it. Din practically purrs in response.

 _"Good boy_ ," he says, and Luke _keens._ He dips his hand down into his Jedi's waistband to pull out his dick, pretty and flushed, listing to one side. His slick hands slide well over Luke's erection, and he watches as Luke falls apart under him. His free hand has found its way to Din's neck once again and the other squeezes tightly where their fingers are still laced together. Luke's hair is a mess, mouth open as he pants for breath, and the blush runs all the way down to his still-exposed chest. He's using whatever leverage he can find to push his hips further into Din's hand. He's _gorgeous_ , and Din's desire to lean down and press his helmet against Luke's forehead is only outweighed by the desire to see his face when he comes.

He leans in a bit anyway, pitching his voice low and commanding as he says, "Luke, _cyar'ika_. Come for me." Feels Luke's hips stutter in their rhythm, sees him gasp, hears him cries out Din's name. Watches as Luke shudders through his orgasm, eyes closed tight and mouth open wide as he comes across his torso.

Finally, _finally,_ he moves down to meet Luke's forehead in a kiss, and he wonders why he didn't do this before.

Later, after Luke has caught his breath and flipped them over. After Luke has pinned him down with the Force and wrapped his pretty lips around Din's cock to return the favor. After all that, when Din is panting against the ground, a thought occurs to him.

"Wait a minute, you told me not to wear my gloves today." Luke hums lazily beside him, and Din turns to prop himself up and accuse him properly. "You _planned this!"_

He gets an amused smile for his efforts. "Sure did," Luke sing-songs.

Din drops his head back down with a thunk. "I hate you."

"No you don't." His Jedi gives a smirk, an outstretched hand.

"No, I don't." Din laces their fingers together.

**Author's Note:**

> I cant believe I fucking wrote this


End file.
